


Sex, Drugs, and A Capella

by Hellesgift



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellesgift/pseuds/Hellesgift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not just fluff, fluff with song lyrics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex, Drugs, and A Capella

Jim was hovering over a fuzzy landscape of dreams when the muted sounds of Blair's computer pulled him back to wakefulness. He followed reluctantly, rolling over into the warmer bedding beside him in a vain attempt to regain the comfortable haven he had just left. The steady tapping that indicated Blair's password and then the opening sounds of his email provider destroyed all further chance of sleep. 

Reluctantly, Jim focused in. He had never mentioned it to Blair--god, the tests that would ensue--but he could identify almost every symbol on Blair's keyboard by sound. The professional student was a touch typist, and thus every keystroke had a consistent pressure depending on whether it was the result of a strong or weak strike. If Jim focused, he could differentiate between left and right hand and between the rows of keys by the difference in the distance the sound traveled and the strength of the strikes. Frankly, compared to echolocation while blind, figuring out Blair's typing was pretty simple. The only obstacle to his comprehension was the speed with which he could follow Blair's spelling. It gave him a new respect for telegraph operators. 

Blair was opening email now, the steady pattern of 'click, pause, scroll, click' almost sending Jim back to sleep. Abruptly, Jim was shoved out of sleep by a flurry of keystrokes. Jim's hearing belatedly acknowledged the sound of an opening-door that indicated Blair had a friend online. Naturally, Blair had begun an instant messaging session. If he couldn't pass the water cooler without shooting the breeze, how could he be expected to ignore an online presence?

Thanks to Blair's remaining exhaustion after days of surveillance, Jim could easily interpret the pattern of keystrokes.

 _Hola chica_ , Blair typed.

Jim tried to ignore his flash of irrational jealousy. He had no reason and no right to be jealous of Blair's friendships, so he distracted himself by focusing harder on the sound of Blair's words. 

There was a pause, then the sound of a message coming in. 

_I'm not sure if I should feel special or not...what do you mean you thought of me?_

Another message coming in. 

_Ahh_. _So it's not going to end up as 'our song' but..._

Incoming. 

_This delay is screwing with my mind...hard day_. _Just got the link_. 

Incoming. Pause. 

_Yeah_ , _thanks_. _I'll email you tomorrow when I'm conscious, ok_? 

Incoming. The electronic sound of a door closing. 

Finally, maybe some peace and quiet around...nope. There went the sound of the web being accessed. Jim stifled a self-pitying moan. After all, he had told Blair that he didn't mind if he checked his mail. Whether the small print included accessing links sent by online buddies...well, he supposed now was not the time to quibble. 

Single clicks of the mouse (left click, a more muted sound after more extensive use) gave Jim no clue to how long he'd have to suffer. When the hum of the computer's speakers started, the upstairs eavesdropper moaned silently to himself. No matter how low Blair kept the volume, Jim was now too tuned in to ignore the slightly tinny sounds radiating softly through the loft. He could hear male voices performing some kind of introduction.

"Thank you. And now we'd like to reward you with our Boy Group Power Love Ballad."

What the hell? 'Chica' must not be the brightest ever, if this made her think of his roommate.

"Yeah, we're making our move to be the next NSyncBackstreetBoyZoneDegree." 

Blair snorted a little at that. Okay, so that was funny. He'd give Blair one snort, but now it was time to finish the damn file and hit the hay.

"Well, actually, we don't really want to be like them, we just want to be rich like them."

Other voices were now chiming in. "We've got the looks--" 

A deeper voice, "And we've certainly got the great dance moves." The audience laughed.

"But because we are Da Vinci's Notebook and not your average boy band, we are giving you: not just a love song, but every love song." 

Now a younger-sounding voice broke in again. "I mean, we listened to a number of boygroups--" Jim could hear groaning from the crowd "--and we discovered that all boygroup ballads are pretty much the same song anyway."

At the same time, Jim could hear another voice continuing: "A metaballad, if you will. Fill-in-the-blanks version." 

Now a grumbling response, "Metaballad?" 

"He has a degree." 

Over the laughter of the audience, Jim could hear a voice finally calling the group to order. "We call this song, _Title of the Song_." 

The group began singing in four-part harmony. Even through the compressed data file, Jim could tell that the voices were appealing--not as appealing as sleep would be, though.

"Declaration of my feelings for you  
Elaboration of those feelings (ooh-ooh-ooh)" 

The mock passion in the accompanying oohs made Blair guffaw loudly; Jim could hear him quickly muffling the sound behind one hand. 

"Description of how long these feelings have existed  
Belief that no one else could feel the same as I"

Jim began to grudgingly enjoy the lyrics, especially punctuated as they were by Blair's laughter. It had been a hard week--anything that made Blair chuckle like that, laugh out loud, was a plus in Jim's book. In fact, he made it only to the end of the first verse before he had to fight back a chuckle of his own. Not a fan of 'boy group power love ballads' himself, Jim could nonetheless tell that this was a funny assessment of the genre. The fact that Blair was laughing helplessly didn't hurt his appreciation.

The group began a round of word-free accompaniment. The bass was 'do-do-do'ing away; one of the tenors was providing a rap-like percussion; but a new verse hadn't started. Even as Jim questioned this delay, he could hear a tenor break free of his prescribed note-sequence. 

"Um, if anyone has copy of the CD, Storm appears to have forgotten the words."

Blair's gleeful snort almost obscured the lead-singer's soulful murmur: "But I still got the moves. Declaration of..." He broke off, obviously remembering that he had already sung that verse. 

A plaintive question from a tenor, "Anybody have a copy of the CD?" 

The other tenor chimed in supportively: "They can be purchased at the back!"

Jim finally rolled out of bed and moved to the top of the stairs. In the streaming-video visible over Blair's bare shoulder, Jim saw one of the group-members slide off the stage and into the crowd. A tenor, still on stage, exclaimed, "Hey, we've found a CD!" 

The crowd, near hysteria now, cheered and applauded as the singer rejoined his group onstage. Still keeping the beat going, the four men clustered around the CD, reading the packaging. Once an agreement was reached, the lead singer carried the CD-liner notes with him and began to sing again.

"Enumeration of my various transgressive actions Of insufficient motivation  
Realization that these actions led to your departure And my resultant lack of sleep and appetite...I didn't know it said that!"

The crowd dissolved again into laughter as the lead-singer pulled himself together to continue with:  
"Appeal for one more opportunity  
Drop to my knees to elicit crowd response" 

The crowd obligingly went wild. 

"Prayers to my chosen deity  
Modulation and I hold the high note..." 

The lead-singer's voice floated out over the other voices as they continued with a final chorus.  
"Title of the Song  
Naive expression of love  
Reluctance to accept that you are gone  
Request to turn back time  
And rectify my wrongs  
Repetition of the _Title of the Song_ " 

In his most soulful voice, the lead singer murmured into the microphone from his kneeling position: "Because you know I mean it, baby. Every last word." Pause. "Whether I remember them or not." 

With a flourish, the tenor at stage right performed the requisite acknowledgement of the song's lead-singer: "Greg 'Storm' Whatshisname!" 

Obviously lulled into a false sense of security by the ostensible end of the song, Blair gave a gasp of laughter and simultaneously inhaled a mouthful of tea.

Jim was down the stairs before he even consciously registered the need, holding on to Blair's shoulders as he choked. 

"Oh, man!" Blair groaned between coughs. "Shit, not funny." Jim had to agree, although he might not have three years ago. Recently he had abandoned humor as a response to the sound of liquid in his partner's lungs.

When Blair had finished dampening the desk, he leaned back against Jim's chest. "Bones in that tea, Jim. Sorry I woke you...didn't mean to, man, honest. But a friend of mine--you met her, Sarah?--sent me a link to this performance that she saw at the Kennedy Center--" 

"I know, Sandburg. I heard."

"Oh, man. Jim, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have opened it up, but she said it was perfect, that it was the perfect love song--says something about her love life, huh, Jim..." the apologetic voice trailed off in the face of Jim's piercing stare.

"Um, Jim? Am I in big trouble here?" 

"Let me see." Jim's grip on Blair's upper arms tightened fractionally. "We were on a stakeout all of yesterday, ending in a fiasco you still haven't made up for..."

"It's not like I had a whole lot of choice--" 

"Which led to a fun Saturday night in the emergency room with its usual contingent of drunks and accident victims. Then the doctor spends almost an hour pulling splinters out of your back and disinfecting you from the waist up--"

"And that's not even the half that needs it, huh?" Blair hurriedly hid his smile at Jim's scowl. "Man, I told you that you would do a better job! I mean, what good is Sentinel sight if you can't use itto take out so me splinters?"

"And then, out of some misguided gratitude for not having lost my partner to his own stupidity," this time Jim spoke doggedly over the attempted objection, while also tightening his grip, "I agree with you on the pain pills, which means neither one of us sleeps for shit..." he paused, as if expecting an interruption.

But after years of interpreting Jim's body language, Blair seemed to have become fluent in Jimgrips. Love might hurt, but only fear bruised. He pressed back closer and leaned his head against Jim's shoulder. 

Jim's sarcastic list faltered. He pulled Blair up out of the chair and turned him around into a close embrace. The sharp smell of the medication reminded him to keep his arms low on Blair's back, and he buried his face in Blair's neck, mere inches above the highest reach of damaged skin.

Jim cleared his throat and continued, this time in a low growl. "Sunday morning, our one morning to laze around in bed," Blair shivered, "and you really think a website is more important? Okay." He let go suddenly, holding on just long enough for Blair to retain his balance. "You're the brains in this partnership. I'll be upstairs when you need me." 

He didn't need super-sensitive hearing to know when to turn to catch Blair in mid-tackle. They staggered a step, and then Blair was kissing him, hard and firm, with the dedication that had made him one-half of Cascade's best detective team. Jim had almost forgotten his last words when Blair pulled away.

"You know, you're right. I should really check out the rest of that performance. Those guys are good," Blair was walking back towards the computer now. "I mean--funny, good voices. Sarah sent me a link to their website too, I could--" his meanderings turned into a shout of laughter as he was caught and flung over Jim's shoulder. 

Jim delayed joining in for only as long as it took him to carry his squirming hostage safely up the stairs. Then he fell onto the bed and pulled Blair down on top of him. He enjoyed the sensations as Blair slowly calmed, his movements like a full-body massage. Before their breathing had completely steadied, Blair pushed himself up slightly and began a luxurious oral exploration of Jim's chest.

Jim looked down their bodies. Blair's long curls concealed most of his actions, but Jim had no trouble feeling every exquisite movement of tongue and lips. He rested his hands gently on Blair's shoulders, avoiding any contact with the raw skin of his back. Stroking down Blair's sides, he could hear Blair's breath hitch suddenly. Blair's hands moved sensuously down to Jim's hips, and their Sunday morning routine seemed to be once more on schedule.

Blair hummed softly as he kissed his way lower; Jim could feel the vibration like another dimension, adding a weird weight to the delicate flicker of skin on skin. To avoid falling into that sensation, he focused on the sound...

"That is _not_ going to be our song, Chief." Blair's laughter tickled his inner thigh, and Jim shifted a little in near-discomfort. "Seriously, I don't care what 'Chica' thinks, it's really not something that...OW!" 

"How did you know I call her that?" Blair pinned him with a fierce gaze and one firm hand on Jim's lower abdomen. "I told you Sarah sent me the link."

"You bit me!" 

"Get over it, you big baby. How did you--?" 

"It hurt." 

"It's not like I had my mouth on anything important. How did--" 

"My thigh is plenty important." 

"Now you're just stalling. Can you--do you read what I type? I mean, hear it or something? Because you weren't looking at the screen then, were you? You weren't!" Blair sat up, pushing down to shift his position and making Jim gasp in response.

"Could we possibly discuss this a little later?" 

"This is so incredibly important, man. I can't believe you hid this from me. We'll need to run tests with different keyboards, different typists. I mean, is it anybody, or have you learned my quirks? And if you have learned mine, can you learn someone else's?" Blair poked him in the hip, hard.

"Ow." This time Jim spoke more to register complaint than in response to pain. Blair grinned.

"You deserve it, keeping this a secret. Come on, up and at 'em. Testing time."

Jim thumped his head back into the pillow. "We were kind of in the middle of something..."

"Sure we weren't. Come on, be a man." 

"I am a man." Jim shoved his best evidence upwards, receiving only a light pat in response. "Come on, Sandburg, do you know how long it's been since I've had to beg for sex?"

"Hmmm...three, four days, isn't it?" 

Jim sat up, shifting Blair off his feet with an annoyed kick. "That wasn't about sex."

"It led to sex." 

"Practically everything with you leads to sex!" 

"Yeah, I know." Blair flashed an enormous grin. "Cool, huh? So how about you cooperate, and we'll see if testing can lead to sex." 

"Sandburg..." 

"I happen to think keyboards are very sexy, man. Come on." 

"That explains a lot." Jim flopped back onto the bed, stifling another groan as Blair shook the bed ruthlessly and then headed downstairs. He heard something scrape on the desk, then a rapid sequence of keystrokes pounded through his frustration.

 _Come on down_ , _Jim_. _One test_ , _then I promise you can help me burn off all the adrenaline that kept us both up last night_. _We'll see_  
how long it can keep us both up this morning

Gritting his teeth, Jim refused to respond. Blair started humming that infernal song again, probably trying to add complexity to his test, and Jim threaded his hearing through the disgusting 'power love ballad' distraction until he could decipher the increasingly rapid keystrokes. What was that?

 _touching myself_

Uh-oh. 

... _pretend that it's your hand_ , _you touching me_

Jim bit down on his lip hard, hoping for some distraction. 

... _a little frustrated with me_ , _so maybe you hold me harder than usual_

Oh, fuck. 

_grab my hair and pull my head back_ , _baring my throat to your lips_ , _teeth maybe_

Jim could hear a rhythmic sound from downstairs, as if Blair were shifting slowly against the chair, leaning forward, moving, thrusting... 

_you're careful because of my back, don't want to get this gunk on the furniture, huh_?

Jim shivered at the catch in Blair's laughter. 

_but you're holding me, commanding me_

Reaching down, Jim caught himself just in time, fighting his body's reaction to Blair's suggestion.

 _I'm leaning back to kiss you, straining againstk your holnd to meet your lips. yoiu're kissing my face, reachig around me to scratchk dwon my chest, trails of sharp almots-pain, your hnds strong on me_

Jim arched up into his own punishing grip, desperately trying to block out the sounds of keystrokes and Blair's ragged gasps. 

"Jim!" It took a second for him to register the fact that the breathy cry had been just that--not typed, but spoken. The heat of need in the deep voice forced his action, and he staggered to his feet, bent over with uncomfortable arousal. The sight of Blair's quick, jerky movements didn't improve his navigation of the stairs, and either his hearing had given out or Blair was typing gibberish. It didn't matter now. 

In two steps Jim was standing behind Blair, fisting his hand in Blair's curls. "You win. Start testing."

Blair let his head fall back. "Just finished. You pass." 

Trembling fingers typed out: _r7di j3_

Jim glanced down, saw where Blair's hands were resting, smiled, and obeyed. 


End file.
